


Phosphorus

by matchamarimo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Demons, Frenemies, M/M, Medieval Fantasy, demon hunting, implied fantasy-type violence, mentioned Karasuno and Nekoma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25177018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchamarimo/pseuds/matchamarimo
Summary: Every time they meet, they burn as hotly and devastatingly as they did before; with years' worth of on-and-offs, an unending twist of pretence and sharp words, and the inability to keep their hands to themselves, Tsukishima finds that he still can't let Kuroo go, even after all this time.And it seems like Kuroo is feeling the exact same way.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 3
Kudos: 60





	Phosphorus

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, it's been a while! I didn't expect to post, but this idea came to me without warning and virtually no structure, so I ran with it and this is all I can offer up :') Not exactly my usual style, but I had an interesting time with it nonetheless.
> 
> [Spoiler] there is a brief scene that can be perceived as rather sacrilegious; it's implied that kurotsuki had sex in a chapel. It is, however, also implied that the chapel has been abandoned and has no longer been in use for a very long time.
> 
> Shoutout to H, for recommending Red Velvet’s [Monster](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ujb-gvqsoi0) to go with this fic : )
> 
> enjoy!

Crimson red and midnight black.

Tsukishima remembers what they used to say about those uniforms.

_Black_ so that you don't see them coming in the night.

_Red_ so that demon blood doesn't ruin their meticulous looks.

It's a uniform that demands respect, shows a high command of power, and is meant to intimidate those it intends to frighten.

Despite never having donned one of them, Tsukishima has intimate knowledge on how to take each button, tie, and drawstring apart. He remembers the slide of fabric beneath his fingertips, the quiet rustle of the uniform losing its shape on the cold floor, and the warmth of skin and flesh hidden beneath the layers.

Nowadays, that warmth stands a good couple of feet away from him at the entryway of Karasuno Landing, technically no longer his to touch or his to take apart.

But that’s no matter.

Tsukishima smiles his most hated smile, the one that makes smarmy Councilmen grind their teeth and quivering villagers shrink away from him. He adjusts his spectacles with poised indifference as Sawamura strides up to the travelling party, shaking hands and making light small talk.

"Welcome, Nekoma. We're glad you've arrived safely, and we're pleased you're all here."

Kuroo's eyes, consciously or not, drifts towards Tsukishima before snapping back to Sawamura.

His smile is pointed, a layer of red-hot barbs and spikes hidden behind the Cheshire grin.

"It's an honour to be back."

* * *

Many many moons ago, Karasuno Landing was once a bustling hub of human activity and a hotspot for demon hunters.

Strategically placed at the junction of two fast-flowing rivers, those who are particularly fond of reminiscing tell of a time where people flocked to the protective borders of the historic castle, building homes and clearing farmland and setting down their roots. They dish out stories of the legendary demon hunter Udai Tenma, of his years of victory and kill count in the hundreds. Hunters passing through enjoyed the worship of the common folk and never-ending mugs of honey-sweet mead at the expense of others’ coins. And twice a year, at every full moon of either the summer or winter solstice, the Blood Hunt was a spectacle that dredged up near-maniac levels of excitement, especially once hunters from neighbouring Landings rode into town, a sight to behold on their war horses and shiny uniforms, to band together for a night of ritual demon-slaying.

Presently, you’d be hard-pressed to find any more than fifty villagers skulking around the decrepit lands and the ghost town tucked away at the very base of the castle. There’s hardly an extra shadow to be found ever since Commander Ukai retired, and the mass merging of the Three Southern Straits meant need for stopping at the river junction all but vanished, and with it went the days of merchants and travellers and magicians crossing through the land. Three-fourths of the rooms in the castle have been unused for nearly a decade, an inch of dust sitting on desks and empty shelves, hardly anything to boast about when it came to hosting hunts. Sawamura had to hire an extra set of hands to help prepare for Nekoma’s arrival—the first party to set foot on their grounds in years.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Kai muses over a hearty dinner of game and wine. “I must’ve been only twenty, twenty-one the last time I came to Karasuno.”

“Still wet behind the ears,” Yaku grins, and dodges the crumb Kai flicks his way. “I bet you fifteen silver coins you’d fall short of my kill count this time around. Again.”

Kai scoffs, amused. “I’d wager twenty on my win over yours, Yakkun.”

“I didn’t know you were a betting man, Kai,” Sugawara says, eyes gleaming, likely already considering his own bets and how best to empty all their pockets.

“With a few more glasses of wine, he most certainly will be,” Yaku promises, and calls for another round of drinks over Kai’s protests.

Tsukishima waves off his seniors’ eventual cajoling for him to join in the pool; he’s not interested in wasting his coin and brain power on trivial things. He plucks a single grape from the bunch on the fruit platter before him, rolling it absent-mindedly between his fingers as he surveys the room. His gaze settles on Kuroo, who is sitting with Kozume and Hinata. He can’t make out what they’re saying, but Hinata is using far more hand gestures than strictly necessary, narrowing avoiding taking out Kozume’s wine glass on multiple occasions.

As though feeling his gaze on him, Kuroo turns, scanning the room until he meets Tsukishima’s eye.

His expression is carefully blank, betraying nothing this time.

Tsukishima smirks, and pushes the grape between his lips languidly. Kuroo’s eyes flicker downwards once before he looks pointedly away.

No, Tsukishima is playing a much more complex game tonight.

* * *

There is an alcove hidden away inside the castle’s abandoned chapel, right over the monstrosity of an organ that is rumoured to start wailing in the dead of the night, haunted by a vengeful spirit that moans and groans its ills away.

There is no ghost, of course, and while it had been a lesson learned about the unexpectedly impressive acoustics of the chapel, Tsukishima doesn’t bother refuting the terrifying rumours—it keeps the nosy and easily spooked far, far away from his little hideout and illicit activities.

Only one other person knows how to find it, after all.

The rungs of the ladder creaks alarmingly, its integrity far from improved over the years, but it holds fast regardless. The mess of Kuroo’s dark hair appears first before he pulls the rest of himself up. He brushes the dust off his hands and doesn’t move closer, observing Tsukishima from a healthy distance away. Tsukishima doesn’t blame him; the last time they saw each other, he gave the man a broken nose.

It had set and healed alright though; Kozume has very steady hands. Tsukishima hadn’t been worried.

As if reading his mind, Kuroo’s upper lip curls. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t walk over there and give you a taste of your own medicine.”

Tsukishima smiles back, razor-like. He shifts, letting the outer layer of his uniform slip off his shoulders. By the pale light of the waxing gibbous moon, he’s granted the satisfaction of seeing Kuroo’s eyes widen, obviously not expecting the clear lack of _anything_ underneath his robe.

“I’m sure I can give you plenty,” Tsukishima murmurs, and Kuroo’s gaze locks onto his, dark and burning, like coals on an open fire.

He covers the short distance between them in three strides and slots his mouth against Tsukishima’s, fiery hot. His hands feel like brands on the chill of Tsukishima’s bare shoulder and waist, and he kisses back with equal fervor, biting and sucking until Kuroo’s mouth is shiny and wet, looking almost hilariously bee-stung.

“Fuck, Tsukishima.”

“Lie down,” Tsukishima whispers, pressing himself forward. Kuroo backs up, lowering himself onto the sad, sagging mattress in the corner of the alcove. It must’ve belonged to some poor organist that lived in the chapel from a time ago, now repurposed for more scandalous acts than sleeping. Tsukishima doesn’t hesitate, following the pull of Kuroo’s hands, settling himself easily over the other man. This, like the endless jabs at each other, is familiar territory.

“You can’t imagine my surprise when I saw you this afternoon,” Kuroo says, slipping his hand into Tsukishima’s hair. He doesn’t pull, but it’s heavy, like a reminder. “Would’ve thought you’d retired by now. Wasn’t that always the plan? Earn your blood gold, then fuck off to live a happy little life in the woods? Not yet fed up with this ‘hobby’ of a job yet?”

“Has anyone ever told you you talk too much?” Tsukishima snaps, straightening. He’s only halfway done undressing Kuroo; Nekoma uniforms are so unnecessarily _complicated_.

Kuroo’s eyes gleam. He knows he’s pushed a sore spot. Most of their conversations go like this, prickly and snarky at best, full-blown arguments and cold silences at worst. There’s just something about Kuroo that makes Tsukishima want to hit and fuck him in equal measures.

“Try shutting me up then,” Kuroo challenges.

Tsukishima bares his teeth.

Reaches out, grabs the front of Kuroo’s crisp white shirt, and tears it open right down the front.

* * *

Yamaguchi gives his dark turtleneck a strange look when he greets Tsukishima over breakfast, but he wisely doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he passes the bread basket over and glances serendipitously at the Nekoma hunters sitting and eating together at the table over.

“I take it you had a good night?”

“A wonderful one,” Tsukishima says dryly, selecting a loaf for himself and slathering it with preserved fruit jam.

Yamaguchi shakes his head, a wry expression on his face. “Sometimes, I don’t know whether you want to kill him or just fuck him.”

Little did he know Tsukishima had the same thought mere hours ago. “Me neither, to tell you the truth.”

“You’d be good together, you know,” Yamaguchi says, ignoring the choked off snort Tsukishima makes around his bite. “If you’d stop taking each other’s heads off at every turn, that is.”

“That bastard brings it on himself.”

Yamaguchi arches an eyebrow. “You know, I’ve managed to piece together bits and pieces over the years, but you never actually did say why you two broke up. Not that I really care, at this point, but I think Sugawara does have a pool going on about it, so if you’re going to spill the beans, tell me first so I can win a bag of pretty coins.”

That makes Tsukishima laugh out loud, startling Hinata into dropping his soup spoon. Ignoring the irritable glare directed his way, he polishes off the last of his bread with two bites, brushing crumbs off his hands.

“What can I say? We were just two men who realized we were going to take very different paths in the future, and saw no reason to stay together.”

Yamaguchi’s look is shrewd, like he knows Tsukishima is being deliberately obtuse, but isn’t bothered enough to prod him about it. Yamaguchi is a good friend.

“And yet here you are.”

“Here I am,” Tsukishima agrees. He rubs absent-mindedly at the wool around his neck. Feels the warm ache of bites and bruising marks against his skin, and smirks to himself.

* * *

Sometimes, he admits to himself that the problem is Kuroo is too _good_ of a man for someone like him. Someone like Tsukishima, who got into the nasty business of demon hunting for a lack of a better profession after witnessing his township go up in flames, the splash of lifeblood against the snowy ground, and the screams of the otherworldly haunting him long into his adult life. He is by no means enamoured by this job, or thirsting for revenge the way so many other hunters do.

No, this is a way to live, a means to get by, something he can do to pass the days until enough becomes enough, or until he meets his end with a particularly awful demon.

Kuroo is too nauseatingly noble for his tastes, too selfless and too giving. Part of Tsukishima relishes in the selfishness Kuroo displays nowadays while they fuck, grunting curse words into the meat of his shoulder while Tsukishima groans and writhes and yanks at his hair, a stark contrast to the way they’d used to make love, warm and wholesome and sweet. It’s alright, though.

They’re still them. Kuroo and Tsukishima. Separated, but still unable to let each other go.

* * *

The snow drifts around them, faint and light under the glow of a startlingly bright full moon. It almost hurts to look directly into it, even though it’s barely cleared the tops of the gnarled, barren branches of the forest. The torches in their hands and the bonfires erected throughout their camp feels almost redundant, but that is a good thing. There’s a reason why they hunt creatures of the night under the guidance of the moon at its most brilliant.

Sawamura leads the hunters of Karasuno Landing in neat rows of twos, carefully keeping his steed on the trusted forest path before them. They’ll split off and plunge into the trees and undergrowth eventually, either in pursuit of their targets or to avoid getting struck down by an incoming demon. The crackle and pop of sap in the logs echoes around the clearing, sending sparks dancing up into the night sky. Tsukishima exhales, watching his breath rise in a soft little cloud. It’s not as cold as it could be, but it is still brisk nonetheless.

The Captains shake hands, exchange ceremonial and fundamentally useless words of encouragement and luck. Decorum is, perhaps, the most unnecessary element of this whole event.

“We shall hunt ‘till dawn,” Sawamura proclaims, gesturing to the forest. “Leave no stone untouched on this good night.”

“May the light of the moon shine bright upon you all tonight,” Kuroo adds. He looks incredible, mounted on his prized horse with a sword in hand. Tsukishima meets his gaze unflinchingly, and swears he could see the slightest hint of a smile on the hunter’s face.

The horn sounds, and they’re off into the night.

* * *

The northern wall is a good place to think. It’s got a nice view of the frozen edges of the river, the untouched white of the bank surrounding the dark waters, and beyond that, a patch of trees that give way to a valley and far, far beyond. At dawn, the serenity of it is almost enough to turn the most uncouth into a poet.

The faint crunch of snow is the only indication he’s not alone anymore.

Kuroo has always been light on his feet, quick and fast like a cat, a disproportionate description for someone of his stature. He walks up to the wall and stops not quite next to Tsukishima, but more of a light hover by his shoulder.

“Nice view,” he says, his voice wary with exhaustion after the night. “I can see why you come up here so often.”

“It’s even better when there’s silence,” Tsukishima replies, and gets an amused snort for his efforts.

“How’s the hand?”

“Fine.” Tsukishima wiggles his fingers. The stitches pull a little, but Yachi’s work is meticulous, and she’s got his hand wrapped up neatly under fresh bandages.

Kuroo gives his hand a considering look. “Can you still hold a sword?”

“For heaven’s sake, it was just a scratch,” Tsukishima deadpans. “Yes, I can still hold a sword. It’ll leave a scar at the very most. Why do you care so much?”

“It’s the sleep deprivation. Makes me say funny things.”

“Go to bed then.”

Arms encircle his waist, tugging him away from the way. Lips brush against his ear, breath hot against the cold outer shell.

“Thought you should come with, so I can have a warm body next to me when I wake up.”

“You are the most unpleasant man I’ve ever met,” Tsukishima says, even as his feet slowly fall into the rhythm of Kuroo’s steady steps, leading them back to the guard tower, down from the wall, and into the gloominess of the castle once again.

“That I may be,” Kuroo agrees readily. He reaches out, tips Tsukishima’s chin up with two fingers, and smiles at him. There are flickering hints of hunger in his eyes, and Tsukishima can feel a similar heat slowly swirl in his belly. “You’re just as bad though, my dear Kei.”

* * *

The last time they’d joined Nekoma for a hunt had been three years ago, south at the sprawling Nekoma Landing. Not an exceptionally long time, but it had been long enough for Tsukishima to forget certain things: the sound of his name on Kuroo’s lips, his favourite position to fuck in, the spot just below his ear that Tsukishima could sink his teeth into and make Kuroo go weak-kneed with the most beautiful groan.

There’s no telling when they’ll see each other again after this. Days and weeks and months are usually spent letting their spitfire conversations and relations simmer and sputter out, until they meet and start the process all over again. At least nobody’s nose got broken this time.

What they have between the two of them is not quite love. It _had_ been, once upon a time, long, long ago. When they were both younger and a little more naive when it came to the mysteries of romance.

Now, Tsukishima thinks he might have a better word to describe the feeling between them; longing.

He can see it in Kuroo’s eyes, feel it curl above his own heart. Maybe they’re getting older.

The little pockets of time they spend together, the moments where they collapse onto the bed or the floor with sweat cooling on their bodies and their chests heaving with breath, hands joined and noses almost touching—it’s something warm, something that burns slowly.

Lends to a flame. Brings emotions to ignite. Reactive; phosphorus.

**Author's Note:**

> I may revisit the ending in the future if I ever get more ideas for this fic, but I hope it was an interesting read at least!
> 
> Hope you're all keeping safe, staying healthy, and taking care ♡
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
